Freshly Showered
by izzo
Summary: Why is it that Oliver Wood smells so good all the time? When Katie Bell points this out to the team, Oliver is puzzled as to why they sniff him so. That the twins have a theory entirely different to the truth doesn't help matters either... EPILOGUE UP!
1. Ideas

**Freshly Showered**

**Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, I'd keep Oliver Wood to myself, thank you very much.**

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm just editing all my chapters up before I post the epilogue/sneak peek and the first chapter of the sequel. I think I've grown a lot as a writer since I first posted this (2008!), and I'd like my work to reflect that. As always, I'd be very happy if you left me a review :) Enjoy.**

CHAPTER 1 – Ideas

"He probably just uses too much deodorant," Angelina huffed as she hovered on her broom.

From the ground, Alicia struggled to lace her boots up. "Yeah," she grunted, "Well, _I_ bet he blasts his armpits with a pore-refining charm of some sort, like the ones from our magazines. You know, to stop the sweat from dripping –"

"I think he just smells that way," Katie interrupted, a goofy grin on her face. She rolled onto her back to lie down on the grass.

"Who smells what way?" a freshly showered Oliver Wood grinned as he stepped onto the pitch. Katie sat up, eyes wide. _"Crap!"_ she thought frantically, her brows knitting together in despair.

"Nobody smells in absolutely no direction, Cap'n, none at all," Katie hastily blurted, turning beet red. Oliver laughed, and Alicia hastened to explain.

"We were just wondering, Oliver, why it is that you never smell. Since you've probably already heard our theories, would you care to enlighten us?"

"Actually," Oliver leaned in conspiratorially, "Katie here is." Katie burrowed her face into her Chaser's gloves. She was absolutely mortified.

"Come on now, Bell," Oliver teased, prodding her with the toe of his boot. "No need to be embarrassed. Everyone wants to take a whiff Oliver Wood, I'm sure."

"Well isn't Oliver Wood the modest one?" Katie rolled her eyes at him. Pulling her gloves on, she clambered onto her broom and kicked off in the direction of the Quidditch hoops.

Turning to Oliver, Alicia amusedly informed him, "She likes you, you know. It's so obvious. She got us wondering why you smelled so good all the time last week, and I don't really know how she took to smelling you in the first place."

Angelina leaned in unabashedly, a bit to Oliver's obvious discomfort. Angelina looked up at him, and rolled her eyes at his panicked expression. "What! I only wanted to smell for myself."

"Oh. Erm, uh, go ahead?"

"Thank you."

Angelina then took a deep whiff and exhaled. Her eyes clamped themselves shut and a mellow grin spread across her face.

"Katie was right," she concluded. "You do smell unusually pleasant." She then buried her nose deeper into surprised Keeper's uniform, right over his firm chest. "Mmmmm. Won't Katie be jealous?" she giggled.

Alicia exchanged a glance with Oliver, who shrugged. She laughed and grabbed a handful of his robes, taking a big sniff as Angelina did. And, like Angelina, she remained there. Now Oliver was really confused.

"What are you girls on? Oh great," lamented the poor Captain sullenly, "Now it looks like I'm breastfeeding my Chasers. You know what that is? That's unprofessional!"

Nothing. Angelina and Alicia snickered into his uniform, refusing to budge.

"Please get off, girls, the Twins better not see this. Who knows what they'll pull on me tomorrow? They'll probably slip me something to turn my skin green –"

"OY!" Two cries resounded from the equipment shed. Fred and George were lugging the chest of balls to where Oliver remained helpless.

"Great," Wood groaned. "What now? I'm rather preoccupied at the moment," he muttered, sarcastic.

"This is low, Wood," started Fred in mock anger. He and George violently dumped the chest before Oliver.

George continued, "We turn our backs one second –"

"One SECOND!" cried Fred.

"– to fetch your bleeding balls," (George high-fived his chortling twin) "And then we return –"

"– to find our girlfriends plastered to your man breasts? It's quite obvious, dear Captain, that _these_ Twins," they pointed to themselves, "are infinitely superior to yours."

"You cretin," huffed George.

"You're despicable!" Fred crossed his arms.

"And really nice-smelling," commented Angelina.

The twins stared at her. Fred elbowed George in the ribs.

"Ow! She's _your_ girl," he said sourly.

"Well in case you haven't noticed, yours is latched onto him as well, genius."

They looked up at Oliver, simultaneously tilting their heads.

"Huh. Your hair's wet. Showered, did ya, Wood?" asked Fred.

"Before practice?" asked George. Both had suggestive expressions on their faces that mortified Oliver, but which the girls did not see.

"_Why_ would you _feel_ the _need _do _that_?" they asked together, waggling their eyebrows for emphasis. It was as if they were in on a very big secret. Or at least a very hard one.

Alicia and Angelina straightened up, not picking up on the twins' insinuations. Taking one look at Oliver's hair and verifying that it was indeed, wet, Alicia muttered, "Cheat," and both Chasers kicked off to join Katie, who was determinedly weaving through the hoops.

Fred and George had identically mischievous grins on their faces. They had taken out their Beaters' bats and stroked them diabolically. Oliver couldn't miss their point if he were blind. He rolled his eyes.

"It's not like that," he said simply.

"Oh? You mean to say you _don't _take a wank before practice because of a certain Chaser named Katie Bell whom you secretly pine for but cannot date because you are an utter pillock who overthinks everything and decided she's too young?" one twin asked innocently as the other batted his eyelashes.

Oliver was too flabbergasted to remember which twin did what. They were too close to the mark for comfort. _How_ they'd guessed was completely beyond him. Also, that sentence was ridiculously long and rather difficult to follow.

No, not about the wanking part, nor the pillock part (he did _not _overthink everything! Or did he?), but the Katie part. He'd never told anybody that…

"Do your drills!" he yelled, having nothing witty to retort with. Oliver was not one for many words.

Cackling, the twins went to the end opposite the girls, where Harry sat waiting on a bleacher.

With a sigh, Oliver released the balls and took the Quaffle.

_"That was awkward. Wanking indeed,"_ he thought. But judging from the twins rude gestures from one end of the pitch and the giggles he could hear from the other, he knew it was far from over.

At the back of his head, however, a thought suddenly surfaced: _"Bell fancies me? Does she really?" _and he flew over to where the Chasers did their agility drills, grinning all the while.


	2. Deny, Deny, Deny

**Chapter 2 - Deny, Deny, Deny**

"Crap, crap, crap, crap, _crap_!" Katie repeated aloud to herself as she zoomed away from where Oliver, Angelina and Alicia were watching, and probably laughing at her. Katie's face expressed sheer panic.

"What must he be thinking now? Oliver can't _possibly_ think... But I just _made a run for it_… When I just sat there grinning like an utter _idiot_… Just because he smelled_ gorgeous _doesn't mean… I better start praying to Merlin… Oh, bloody hell, I cannot believe he thinks I _fancy _him!" Katie paused to absorb this. For good measure she added, "I DO NOT FANCY HIM!"

Of course, she did not consider that Oliver may have come to any other conclusion. She was too wrapped up in her own embarrassing behavior: she deemed it a dead giveaway to emotions she didn't want to admit she harbored.

Katie flew between the poles, going through the motions of the Chasers' regular warm-up exercise. At the same time, she frantically racked her brain for a plan, or an excuse at the very least. If one were to listen closely, one might hear her calling herself colourful variants of the word "idiot".

In the midst of insulting her own intelligence, Katie cursed the day she ever smelled Oliver Wood.

"_He just _had_ to be there and smell… so… like _that_, didn't he? Well, he can't smell that great…Now he must think I fancy him. Which I don't. Definitely don't. What does he even smell like anyway? It can't be anything special…"_

Subconsciously slowing her broom's flight, Katie attempted to dissect the wonderful scent that was Oliver Wood's.

Certainly Oliver smelled clean. Even when he was sweaty, Katie never smelled a trace of sourness or of body odour. He always smelled pleasantly neutral.

Katie wanted to think that all Gryffindor players smelled terrific, but she couldn't say so quite that accurately: the Twins smelled a bit… strong sometimes, especially if they'd been working on those mysterious little experiments of theirs before practice. On their worst days they smelled like burnt rubber, gunpowder and sugar. Lots of it.

On the other hand, the girls felt that all Harry's worries really left him with a bit less time to shower than the rest of them. But they were boys, and Katie and the girls were used to how they smelled. It was actually quite comforting sometimes.

But Oliver… Oliver was something else. To Katie, he smelled so mild it was almost odorless. Not like laundry, or like talc; he just smelled clean. It was a sort of clean that smelled like… Well, there wasn't a smell, really. Was that even possible?

Katie examined the logic out loud. "Oliver smells good because he smells clean, which smells like something but at the same time smells like nothing. Oliver," she sighed dejectedly, "Smells like he's my best friend. Oliver smells like… I shouldn't even be sniffing him in the first place. Oliver smells like… Oliver smells like –"

_THUNK!_

"OH!" Katie yelped as her head collided with the sturdy wooden post of the centre hoop. Her scatter-brained thinking had distracted her to the point that she'd forgotten to watch where she was flying. She managed to swerve away at the last second but she wasn't so lucky. Already the poor girl felt a lump beginning to swell on her forehead. She nearly fell off her broom, too, but she was able to steady herself in the nick of time.

"Nice one, Bell," Katie scolded herself as she massaged it with her free hand.

She surreptitiously scanned the pitch to see if anyone had seen her little incident. Nope, Harry was busy brooding, and the others were…

Okay, the others were attached to Oliver's chest. No big deal.

"_What!" _Katie did a double-take, positively shocked. Her eyes weren't fooling her: her fellow Chasers really did have their noses buried in Oliver's uniform. Katie couldn't help but feel more than slightly jealous. And irritated.

"Those two!" she huffed, disgruntled. Gritting her teeth, she swiftly turned her broom around and began flying up and down the height of each hoop, concentration etched on her features as she did each aerial climb and dive.

It wasn't long before she was joined by Alicia and Angelina, who were sporting grins matching in smugness.

"What?" demanded Katie when they wouldn't speak up. "WHAT!"

"Easy there, Katie. You were right after all," said Alicia.

"He smells gorgeous," said Angelina.

"Yeah, doesn't he?" asked Katie, forgetting completely that she was supposed to be irritated. The cheesy grin was slowly creeping its way back onto her face.

"I know. He smells so clean!" exclaimed Alicia, echoing Katie's previous thoughts exactly.

"And so masculine," added Angelina.

"But not musky," Katie interjected. "I hate musk."

"No, no," agreed the other two. "Definitely not."

"But isn't there something about how he smells?" shared Katie. It really was beginning to bother her. "It's like, he smells so neutral, yet at the same time so fresh –"

"And delicious – "

"And intoxicating –"

"And so… _Oliver_," the three finished dreamily, sighing.

"I know what you mean," said Angelina.

"But it really isn't that fair, you know. He did just shower…" said Alicia skeptically. Still, the three were caught up in their little fantasy.

Katie was the first to snap out of her reverie, and the irritation was clear in her voice when she uttered, "Hey! He's off-limits! You two have got perfectly good blokes of your own! What are you doing fantasizing about Oliver? Fred and George won't be too happy about this…"

"Oh, is that what you call what you've been doing? 'Licia, I think you're right after all! Katie here does fancy the Captain!" Angelina was grinning manically.

"Yeah, Katie, and just because we're taken doesn't mean we can't like how a guy smells. I so knew you fancied him, don't deny it!"

Katie felt herself blushing to the roots of her hair. "I do _not_!" she cried defensively.

"Is that all you've got for us, Bell?" Angelina taunted.

"I don't!"

They weren't buying it. In fact, they both had their arms across their chests, eyebrows raised and doubtful. Katie groaned. "I only like the way he smells. Promise!"

Nothing.

Katie suddenly had a bright idea. "Look, I'll prove it to you. But you two have got to help me out. If we can make Oliver's weird smell-lessness go away, as in really make him sweat, then this weird fixation I've got with his odour will go away.

"This will involve near-torture, of course," Katie dangled the extra bait before them. She knew they wouldn't miss the opportunity to turn the tables on the Quidditch Nazi.

After a short moment, as well as an exchange of glances between the girls, Angelina replied, "All right, I'm in."

Alicia added, "Me too. But I still don't think making Oliver smell is going to make you fancy him any less."

"I don't fancy him!" Katie very nearly shouted in frustration.

"All right, if you say so," said Angelina with a roll of the eyes. "Sheesh."

To that, Katie made no reply. Angelina and Alicia peered at her with curiosity, but they didn't make a sound.

"Augh, why must you guys torture me like this!"

"We didn't say a thing!" one of them laughed.

Katie groaned and tugged on her ponytail. "Okay. Fine. Fine! Maybe I do fancy Oliver. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"I knew it!" Alicia punched the air triumphantly.

"Just… please don't tell him? I don't want him to know. I just want to shake off this weird little crush and sweep it under the rug."

"Why would you wanna do that, Katie? This could be something good. You guys have been, like, the best of friends since you joined this team," lamented Angelina.

Shrugging, Katie replied, "Stuff, you know? He's my best friend, and he's leaving soon. I can't really afford to like him that way."

"Not that you don't," Angelina rocked on her broom. "I mean, you're even obsessed with his scent."

"It's pathetic," Katie agreed. "So, wanna help me stink him up?"

"So what's the plan, Katie Loveless?" asked Alicia.

"Shut up. And leave it to me."

"You hurt me, honey. But okay, if you say so, Katie, we'll just play along," replied Alicia with an overdramatic sigh.

Katie rolled her eyes, and joined the other two as they began their agility drills.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Oliver approaching with a shiny red Quaffle in his hand. He had an extremely good-natured expression on his face.

"_Good,"_ Katie thought. _"Easy kill."_

"Hey Ollie," she shouted, a bit too loud to sound natural. She cringed.

"Hello, Kates," replied Oliver pleasantly. "I was thinking we should go easy today. I figured we all needed some time to rest."

Katie groaned inwardly. She had to pick today of all days to torture him, didn't she? Oliver rarely went easy on them. But she was on a mission.

"No, Captain! Absolutely not!" she feigned her horror at the concept of a light practice.

"Am I rubbing off on you, Bell?" asked Oliver in half-jest. He couldn't follow. Katie loved light practice. "What's going on?"

"Well, er," Katie began, fumbling for an excuse. "Ange and Alicia say they really need the extra shooting. When's the last time we've worked on our, er, our fast shots?"

Katie could feel two pairs of eyes burning a hole into the back of her head. Fast shots tired everyone out.

Oliver nodded his head, pondering Katie's proposition. "All right, if you think that's what you've got to work on. I really admire your initiative, Kates," he said sincerely, reaching out to put an arm around her shoulders.

Katie felt her heartbeat stagger as she inhaled Oliver's captivating smell yet again. She shook herself. _"No, no no!"_

"Well, uh, we'd better get the Quaffle basket, then," she laughed nervously. She would have to stink him up _real_ good for this to work.

Oliver looked confused as he watched her edge away. In the back of his mind, he felt disappointed at her distant attitude. She wasn't normally that jittery around him…

"_Perhaps she doesn't fancy me after all,"_ he thought gloomily. He ran his fingers through his hair then waited by the hoops for his Chasers to return. He had the strangest feeling they were up to something.

**A/N:** Yup, this is the edited second chapter. You may notice a whole new interlude in the middle – that's to provide some ground for believability :) Plus I like it when Katie allows herself to be a little vulnerable. Please do review if you enjoyed this!


	3. The Course of Action

***Chapter 3*: The Course of Action**

**A/N:** Edited for continuity purposes!

**Chapter 3 – The Course of Action**

Oliver Wood hovered at the hoops, awaiting his Chasers' return. From his posture one could easily assume that he was contemplating his next move in his head. For you see, by virtue of his love of Quidditch and tactics, Oliver was naturally a very goal-oriented person (no pun intended). Once he figured out what it was that he wanted, he just went for it. That is, after playing every situation he could think of through in his head. He orchestrated plays, he orchestrated life.

But a man can only have so much foresight, and planning can only get him so far. The day he came to terms with the reality that he fancied his Chaser, he felt as though he'd taken a Bludger to the head. This was because unlike school or Quidditch, he couldn't predict a certain outcome, as much as he wanted to. Katie Bell could be one of the most volatile (if scatterbrained was not the appropriate word for her) people he knew, which made it difficult for his to read her emotions. He could barely even keep up with her and the team's antics, and today was no exception. Not a minute ago she left him in quite a state.

Oliver let his mind wander to the day's other odd occurrences, and sniffed himself discreetly. _"I can't smell _that_ good," _he thought for the second time that day. _"What could they be up to?"_

The Keeper shrugged it off. He didn't know what was going on, but he had a little hope that maybe Katie did fancy him back, even though every other moment she said or did something to negate it. Sometimes he was convinced she was utterly barmy. In the best sense, of course.

He had no idea why or how the twins knew he fancied her. Probably intuition. Fred and George were scarily on the mark sometimes. But they weren't totally right; Katie wasn't too young for him. Not at all. But maybe she might find him too old... So many things could go wrong, and that frustrated Oliver. At seventeen, he was too young to feel like dirty old man. Therefore Oliver's new plan was to just go with it, to keep up with Katie and see where it took them. After all, the last thing he wanted to do was to scare her off. Silly boy had the twigs on his broomstick crossed.

"Katie," Angelina laughed. "Slow down!"

"Shut up, Ange," said Katie hurriedly. The manic expression on her face made Alicia laugh, as well.

"My, my, Katie," she giggled in singsong. "You're starting to look a lot like the Captain when you're obsessing. You two would make quite a lovely couple, you know. You've got so much in common! Just think of how compatible you two are!"

"I said, shut up!" Katie cried, and Alicia hooted in laughter at her face.

"Easy now," Angelina punched her arm, muttering the next sentence: "As if you didn't like hearing that. Seriously though, what have you got in mind? Fast shots, you must be mental."

"Well," Katie paused for drama in the middle of opening the equipment shed, "Make him sweat, girls."

"How precise you are, Katie. You already said that. Fast shots? Really?" Alicia repeated.

"_I_ bet you can make him sweat all on your own, Katie. What do you need our help for?" added Angelina, smirking.

"Shut _up_! Please!"

Angelina and Alicia giggled.

The three flew back to the hoops, where a waiting Oliver sat on his broom, hands on his hips.

"You girls ready?" He asked pleasantly, the corners of his mouth upturned.

Katie shivered at his accent, suddenly feeling a twinge of guilt. But she shook herself quickly and looked him squarely in the eye with every ounce of bravado she had in her.

Oliver took one look at Katie's blazing eyes and then surveyed the floating basket of Quaffles uneasily. He was suddenly suspicious.

Before he could have his wits fully about him, he felt a Quaffle zoom less than a foot away from his head, and saw it go neatly into the centre hoop. "Whoa!" he frowned.

"Block that, Captain," Katie challenged him. The two other girls, clearly her wingmen in this little scheme, each grabbed a Quaffle and tossed them menacingly. It looked very Quidditch Mafia, Oliver thought.

Oliver felt a grin creeping back onto his face as he saw the playful scowl on Katie's. "Game on, Bell," he beckoned.

But the poor boy didn't know what was coming to him. No sooner than when he uttered Katie's last name did Quaffle after Quaffle come flying his direction, into all three hoops. Oliver could barely contain his shock when one of them actually hit him on the head, garnering a giggle from all three girls.

"_Oh yeah?"_ he thought, and proceeded to save every shot they made. Most of them, anyway.

On the other side of the pitch, the Twins were growing bored with rallying a single Bludger back and forth between them. The other Bludger was tucked safely away in the chest, per Captain's orders. They didn't even have a moving target now that Harry was without a broom. The poor boy was currently nodding off on the bleachers – Oliver was making him observe practice to compensate for missed flying time, but clearly it was a useless arrangement.

George sighed. "You reckon we could… _persuade_ McGonagall into returning the Firebolt to Harry? I miss having a target." He lazily punted the Bludger to his Twin, who was hovering a few meters away.

"Not a bad idea, George," mused Fred, easily knocking it back. "We're far too sexy for this… Seducing that woman would prove much more of a challenge!"

"Nobody can resist the red chest hair! And you and I both know that underneath all that green velvet is quite the woman just ready to pounce. Meeeoowrr!" George chuckled.

"No one spells out 'repressed' quite like McGonagall… I wonder if her underwear's velvet too. How kinky would that be!"

The Twins hooted rather audibly at the visual, rocking on their brooms. This caused George to unintentionally deliver a mighty swing with his Beater's Bat, making the iron Bludger ricochet in the Chasers' direction.

"Oh, that'll be trouble," George muttered.

"We'd better get that."

"Right-o."

George sped after the Bludger while Fred flew to retrieve the chest of balls. Holding open the much lighter box, Fred flew directly beneath George as they bulleted after the careening ball. Half past the midfield line, they caught up with it.

"Catch, Fred!" bellowed George as he smacked the Bludger directly on its top, sending it speeding downwards and straight into the chest Fred was holding open.

"Got it, George!" cried Fred as the Bludger hit the bottom of the chest, causing the broom to wobble. "Uh-oh!"

Fred slammed the chest's lid shut and lowered to the ground to steady himself. George followed suit.

"Yes!" They slapped each other on the shoulders then across the palm.

"Did Wood see?" asked Fred, grinning. Should Oliver have seen it, he would have blown his top and begun droning on over proper decorum on the pitch, care of equipment, technique in lobbing, focus during practice, matching socks, Chocolate Frogs, or whatever else may have struck his fancy at the given time. Not that either of the Twins would have cared; it was just highly amusing.

"Nah, he's busy," said George with a wave of his hand.

The two turned around and spotted the normally overenthusiastic Keeper. Strangely, at that moment Oliver was looking highly _un_enthusiastic. Perhaps it was due to the fact he was being pelted non-stop with a barrage of training Quaffles by three crazed-looking Chasers. Poor lad got hit on the head every now and then, too, and hard. They could hear the grunts from the girls, as well as Oliver's useless cries of confusion and pleas for mercy. ("Ow! What do you girls think you're doing? Shoot them into the goals!"; "Oof!"; "Stop that! I demand you stop!"; "Bloody hell!"; "Have you three gone absolutely mad? OW!")

Momentarily befuddled, Fred and George simultaneously tilted their heads ('twas a Twin thing), taking in the odd scene in contemplative silence. George had his face cupped in one hand, and Fred was absently stroking his non-existent goatee.

Fred broke the silence. "So what d'you reckon they're doing to the Captain?"

"I don't know, but it looks like an awful lot of fun."

"I like the way you're thinking, brother. We might as well exploit this while Oliver's too stupid to move."

"Wicked," they whispered reverently of the opportunity.

Identically evil grins spread on both their faces as they crept up to join the girls. This was going to be fun.

**A/N: Don't forget to review! :)**


	4. Out of Hand

**A/N: I am so, so sorry! I honestly don't know what took me so long in updating this, but a big THANK YOU to all my readers who have nagged me to continue this sucker. I don't know if anyone is actually still reading this, but this chapter goes out to openwindow for, well, flattering me into remembering I wrote this! Ha, ha, shame on me, I know! Even if I don't deserve it, I'd absolutely love a review!**

**Izobel x**

**CHAPTER 4 – Out of Hand**

Oliver winced, shielding himself as each Quaffle launched by his maniacal Chasers hit its mark somewhere on his body. His efforts to block them had been futile. It occurred to him that he ought to have moved out of the way a long while ago, as well as deliver a lengthy lecture on propriety on the pitch, but he found himself too astonished to do either. Instead, he had settled for freezing and hoping they'd take pity on him or snap out of their weird frenzy. That was a mistake, of course.

Just when he thought they were about to let up, he looked up from the protective shield of his arms to spot none other than Fred and George evilly rubbing their hands together. It happened like slow motion: each twin grabbed a battered Quaffle in his hand and arched his body back to swing the ball right at him. In pure Fred and George fashion, they did the entire motion in perfect synchrony.

At this point, Oliver wasn't entirely sure if he was looking at both his Beaters, or if he was simply so far gone that he was really just cross-eyed and was actually looking at only one twin. His internal question was answered when two Quaffles hit him squarely on each of his pecs – one on the left and the other on the right. Yep, it was the both of them. "Oye!" Oliver winced.

One of them had the cheek to call, "Look out!" a couple of seconds after impact. George, probably.

Oliver couldn't process. "Ex-excuse me?" he asked in disbelief. Had his _Beaters_ just hit him? He began to fume.

"I'm sorry, Wood, our balls go faster than the speed of sound!" Fred bellowed, his and George's brooms rocking from their raucous laughter. "Maybe you should consider finding new Beaters!"

"Yeah," called George. "Hitting you is a lot more fun than thumping a boring old Bludger to each other all day. Girls, you never told us that Chaser training had so many perks!"

Fred and George high-fived each other, chortling while everyone else just perched on their brooms in stunned silence. Oliver was quite obviously teed off, whereas Katie, Angelina and Alicia sat clutching their Quaffles, evidently unsure of what to do next. Katie looked faint as she looked at each of the girls, who nodded. The three just turned their brooms around and descended in the direction of the pit.

"We're taking a water break, Oliver," called Angelina, who was probably the least disoriented of the three.

"Yeah," echoed the other two with dismissive waves of their hands.

"Looks like it's just us, Captain," grinned George as he grabbed another Quaffle. Fred did the same, although as they judged from Oliver's face, he was quite ready to explode. Fred fired his second Quaffle straight for Oliver's chest, but instead, it hit the palm of Oliver's hand as he caught it deftly. The Captain was livid.

"Just _what_ do you two pillocks think you are doing interrupting my practice? Why in Merlin's name aren't you two rallying that Bludger around like I told you to? I THINK YOU BOTH SHOULD REALIZE THAT THIS IS NOT A GAME WE'RE PLAYING HERE –"

"Hate to break it to you, mate," Fred interrupted, "But Quidditch _is_ a game."

Oliver sputtered for a moment before bellowing, "THAT IS BESIDE THE POINT!"

He breathed in and out, and with forced calmness said, "Take a break. Five minutes." The put-out Keeper followed the girls for some water. The twins looked at each other, knowing that it was far from over. George clutched the basket of Quaffles as he and Fred followed Oliver in stealth mode.

"What in Merlin's name just happened there?" Katie stared into space. If there was ever a practice that had gone horribly awry, it was this one. She could distantly hear Oliver yelling at Fred and George and getting cut off.

"I know! One second we were just shooting them into the hoops, then the next we were going at poor Oliver like he was some living bull's eye!" Alicia frowned into her goblet. "Poor Captain, we bullied him! I feel awful. And then Fred and George just came along –"

Angelina interrupted, "Psh, he's a man. He can take a few hits." Katie and Alicia looked at her like she was mad. Angelina didn't look entirely convinced of herself, either.

"I owe him an apology." Katie slouched, peering into her goblet of water as Alicia had done. "Poor, poor Ol. All this is my fault!"

"No, it's ours too. We let it get out of hand. And now I think my _darling_ boyfriend and his brother are out to get him, just for the hell of it. You know how they are," spat Angelina.

"Shush, shush, he's coming!" Katie panicked. She self-consciously tucked her stray hair behind her ears and cleared her throat.

"What the hell was that about, Bell?" thundered Oliver as he stomped off his broom.

_That rhymes,_ Katie thought. Her heart was a-flutter; she noticed that Oliver's brogue really came out when he was mad.

"What was…" she cleared her throat. "Erm, what… was what about, Cap'n?"

Oliver glared at her, and she felt someone poke her in the back. No time for games.

"W-well… you see, Cap'n, what happened was… was uh…" she floundered. She cleared her throat again. Angelina and Alicia had cowered behind her, so she was on her own.

"Well?" asked Oliver testily. "Practice fast shots my arse. What's your brilliant explanation, love?"

_Love,_ she choked in her head. Her eyebrows shot way up. _He called me love!_

"Answer him!" Angelina hissed, again poking Katie in the back and out of her Oliver-induced haze.

Katie felt her face heat up. "Yes! Um, yes. Yes." She faced her Quidditch Captain squarely and took a deep breath. She felt the sky growing darker, though she didn't know if it was literally growing dark or if the world was melting around her.

"Oliver, I'm so, so sorry. This whole thing just got out of hand and I really just wanted to prove to myself and to these two here that I did… Well, that I didn't –"

"BOMBS AWAY!" hooted two voices from above. The Twins were twenty feet in the air, barely visible over the slow rain of Quaffles falling over everyone's heads (but mostly on Oliver's).

(It would be worth noting that Quaffles are engineered and charmed to fall slowly but heavily. Knowing this, Fred and George had opted to give everyone only a second to react. Such is the diabolical nature of the Weasley Twins.)

Katie stood there, paralyzed. One moment she was poised to confess her very deepest secret, and the next she was saved by a rain of Quaffles overhead. Looking up, she calculated whether it was a blessing or a bad thing. Quaffles were quite heavy, after all, and felt heavy as medicine balls when they were falling. Then she heard Oliver shout, "Kates, watch out!"

He dove over her, knocking them both to the ground. In a split second, they were pelted by a barrage of crimson spheres, and Oliver shielded her closely as the Quaffles bounced off his back.

**A/N Well? I hope you like it! In the next Chapter, our dear Kates finds out just how well her failure of an experiment worked with regards to Mr. Wood's smell. :) Review if you're beautiful!**


	5. Fight or Flight

**A/N Hi! It's been… ummm… a year now? Haha is anyone still with me? If you're reading this story and you've been reading it since the start then, oh my goodness, thank you :) No more promises, but I'll finish this! Someday! But this one's gonna be short. It's a wee bit pivotal :)**

CHAPTER 5 – Fight or Flight

Katie's eyes were clamped shut when she heard Oliver groan, "My back! The bloody hell was that?"

When she dared to open them, she saw him hovering protectively over her and wincing, but before she could look away he caught her gaze. They held their stares for a long moment, oblivious to the scattered Quaffles and surrounding teammates. Katie absently pondered to herself that she'd never seen him so up-close, and stared a bit more at his freckles. To her own surprise, Oliver reached up a hand to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"You alright, Bell?"

Before she could answer, Fred jeered, "Oy! Don't get too caught up now! According to the Cap'n, inter-team dating is strictly prohibited!"

To which Angelina sassed, "Oh yeah? We must have been misinformed then. Wouldn't wanna disappoint Ollie, now would we? We're through!"

"What! Angie, baby, you're gonna throw us away? Just like that? Say it isn't so!" Fred mock-lamented.

"No, _Fred baby_, I'm gonna throw _you_ away like those Muggles' disposable nappies!"

In the midst of the scene Fred and Angelina had created, Oliver hadn't batted an eyelash. He merely stared at Katie curiously, as though trying to read her brain. Unable to take it, Katie buried her face in his uniform, blushing. She only had more reason to blush upon discovering, with one deep breath, that Oliver still smelled fresh in spite of the torture he'd undergone only minutes before. This was a fact she wasn't sure she was disappointed or not to have learned. And if it were only possible to grow even redder, she truly would have upon finally looking Oliver in the eye, after considering everything she'd just made him go through all for the sake of her massive failure of an experiment.

A few important things she'd decided in her head, however:

_One, okay, yes, Oliver_ does_ smell really, really good. Two, it's all the bleeding time. It's a crime! Three, dear Merlin, I fancy the pants off of him! There, I admit it! Oooooliveeeeerrrrr. I fancy youuuuu, but… Four, I just made a complete troll out of myself! Way to blow it big time, Bell. Way. To. Go._

And then Oliver interrupted her thoughts by asking again, "Bell? Are you alright?"

And then: "What was all that just now?"

Katie couldn't answer. She knew it was a moment of only two options: to fight, or to flee. And she didn't have the wits about her to respond, because really, what is there to say when the boy you fancy is lying atop you, available for the sniffing? Katie's brains were goo.

But the moment was there…! It was finally there! Katie, though still very much embarrassed, looked Oliver and took a deep breath.

What came out of her mouth was a decidedly absurd: "Neurgh."

Oliver frowned. "Katie?"

But the moment was over. Katie, taking in her surroundings and her teammates' smug expressions, could no longer take it. She was far too embarrassed for one day. She made a move to try and shove Oliver off her, muttering pathetically, "I'm… I'm so sorry, Ollie."

Before Oliver could ask her what for, she'd already gotten up and run away.

"Katie! Katie!" He called after her, but she wouldn't turn back. Oliver sat, dejected, until he, too, noticed his teammates staring down at him.

"What?" He growled. "Practice is over." And then to the twins, "Clean this mess up!"

Angelina and Alicia stood by, waiting for his orders, but Oliver had none. He opted to leave the pitch without a word, hoping his stony silence would speak louder than any shouting he could have done.

Oliver stalked away from the team in the same manner, but in a decidedly anti-climactic moment, Harry called out from the stands, "Um, Wood? May I leave now? See, I've got to talk to Hagrid about something tonight…"

Oliver sighed. _So much for dramatic exits_. "Yes, Harry, you may go now."

"Thanks, mate!"

_I'd just better find Katie, _Oliver thought to himself. _Is she alright? What on earth was that all about?_

**A/N: Alright, so we've already established that I'm awful for semi-leaving-you-guys-hanging but... If you liked it, would you leave me a review, pretty please? :)**


	6. Buried

**A/N: By now I think you guys know I deserve the worst updater award! It would be a miracle if you guys were still with me. Regardless, I decided to write tonight because I finally have some free time on my hands! PS, in case you guys didn't know, this takes place in PoA, although the dementors are decidedly not a threat to their Quidditch practice. At least, in my head they aren't. Enjoy! x**

CHAPTER 6 – Buried

"I never knew!" Fred mimed weighing scales with his hands as the remainder of the team slogged back to the castle. "Kates? Oliver? No sodding way!"

"Are you dense, mate? It's so obvious. I am hereby ashamed of you," hammed George. "Ladies, I present to you more unfortunate proof that Fred is, indeed, the dumber twin. Add that to the already-long list of ways in which he is inferior to _me_, George Weasley: he is far less handsome, less debonair, less hygienic…"

"Sarcasm, you pillock!" Fred hit George's bottom.

"Riiiiight. That smack, by the way, was downright dirty," George teased.

Alicia snorted. "Oh, don't get Ange and me started on what's dirty! You two have nothing on Wood in terms of hygiene, much less when you're together. Do you even smell yourselves?"

"Oi! We've warned you once, don't make us do it again," George gave Alicia a smelly hug. "The next time we catch you lot attached to his bosoms, there will be Merlin's very valuable earwax to pay!"

"I'm just saying," Alicia whined, "He's really, _really_ nice-smelling. You two could learn a thing or two from him, y'know, about showering? Or perhaps the concept of using fresh socks? Wouldn't they, Ange? …Ange!"

"Hmm? Yeah," the other Chaser finally replied. While she thoroughly enjoyed watching Oliver dive over Katie to protect her, Angelina's responsible side was slowly kicking in. "Hey guys, shouldn't we be looking for Katie? I'm a tad worried she'll do something strange, or even drastic. Sweet as Wood was, that must have been pretty embarrassing for Bell back there."

"Don't worry about it! Wood's got it covered," stated Fred confidently. "The Captain's not the sort to let loose Quaffles go, if you know what I mean. He's a Keeper, after all."

Alicia frowned, and then patted him on the shoulder. "Not in the foggiest. The sheer wisdom of that statement confounds me! How does Ange manage?"

"Relish in the rare opportunity, Spinnet," Fred cackled, "For you may never be so lucky again!"

By this time, the team had finally reached the entrance of the castle.

"Race you to the kitchens!" bellowed George as he and Fred sprinted off, howling like maniacs.

"Reckon they'll remember to bathe?" asked Angelina after a pregnant pause.

"No," sighed Alicia, "They're just lucky they're so fit. We just put up with it, don't we?"

Any of Fred's earlier Quaffle allusions for Katie were probably accurate, however. After having appeared to storm out on his teammates, Oliver made a mad dash in the direction of the castle. Though he was still confused as to what had just occurred, he was driven by his determination to set it all straight. This, however, was highly uncharacteristic of the befuddled Keeper.

"I was perfectly content keeping to myself. I even set rules about inter-team dating – those applied to everyone! Not that anyone listened…" he grumbled as he rushed to the dorm. "But does she? Could she fancy me?"

His heart was throbbing painfully, and it felt as though it was lodged in his throat. He was utterly unprepared and he knew not what he was supposed to be doing, but he couldn't ignore these feelings any longer. _"Perhaps,"_ he thought, _"all these months of suppressing myself have piled up. What even happened out there? Did I miss something?"_

Truly, everything seemed to be happening so fast. The normally practical Oliver could not wrap his head around the reason why today, of all days, he was running for his life to find a girl he didn't even think about wooing before. Sure, he fancied Katie loads, but he always thought it inappropriate to act on his attraction. He did not even know what she could possibly think about him. He did not consider the number of outcomes that could take place should he find Katie. So wrapped up was Oliver in charging towards Hogwarts that he did not even realize that he was still clutching his broom. Had he only been more self-aware he could have flown about to find her (or perhaps returned his broom to the Gryffindor shed first), but he cast this and all other thoughts aside save for one: _"I must find Bell and tell her I fancy her."_ His most logical moment this decidedly was not.

Deep within the Gryffindor Common Room, Katie shivered, hiding. After the quickest and coldest shower she'd ever taken, she had deliberately chosen to burrow in the darkest area of the Common Room, far from the fireplace and most of the couches. She was thankful for the big, crimson couch in the little cranny; most Gryffindors did not notice it, and from there she had a great view of both the Quidditch pitch and the House entrance. Covered in a red blanket (camouflage, she'd reasoned), Katie watched both views like a hawk for any sign of Oliver or her teammates. Alas, there was nobody in sight. Katie knew they would have been through with practice by then, but none had returned to the Common Room. Maybe they were out looking for her, or just grabbing a bite to eat. Either way, she was not looking forward to seeing anyone. Especially not Oliver.

"I'm an idiot," she told herself. "I'm an idiot!"

Katie briefly rehearsed what she might say, should anyone discover her hiding place. Still, she figured surmised that locating her there would be unlikely. Snuggling deeper into the couch, Katie considered that it was verily perfect for hiding, and other things. _"Firm, but soft,"_ she assessed, pressing her face into the warm upholstery._ "Like Oliver's chest… Merlin, Katie, STOP IT!"_

She watched… and waited… and inevitably yawned herself to sleep.

**A/N: Just a reminder! Am I a horrible person if I ask you to review? :) Just a couple more chapters now!**


	7. Awkward Hope and Realism

**A/N: Thank you all for bearing with me the past few years! This is the last chapter of my story, Freshly Showered. Well, I may post an epilogue slash sneak peek afterwards. A sneak peek for what, you ask? I will be posting a SEQUEL! That's right, a sequel. I bet you're thinking that I'm never gonna update it, but I'm telling you now that I definitely will write ahead. Anyway, I've kept you all long enough. Enjoy Chapter 7 and leave me one last review! :)**

**Chapter 7 – Awkward Hope and Realism**

Oliver dashed into the Gryffindor Common Room, scanning it quickly for signs of Katie. He had already come from the Great Hall. Then, upon realizing he possessed his broom still, he'd even flown to the Astronomy Tower just searching for her, but she wasn't there. To his relief, he easily found her sleeping in her corner of the Common Room. He sighed to himself, remembering that Katie thought it was the perfect hiding spot. Quietly approaching, Oliver nudged Katie awake.

"Kates? Wake up," he whispered. Katie fidgeted in her sleep, fighting off the disturbance. "You can't stay here, love, let's get you to bed."

Oliver made a move to pick her up, reasoning that he could simply fly up the girls' staircase to deposit Katie at her dormitory. But as he did so, Katie grabbed a fistful of his robes and murmured, "Ollie?"

The Captain stood still. His heart was pounding; he had never heard her say his name in that tone. "Kates?"

But Katie was still asleep. She snuggled her face into his chest, and he felt her grin against his clothing. "So good," she sighed. Oliver blushed, until he remembered she was still asleep.

"Katie, wake up," he pleaded. "Bell? Bell!"

"Huh, what?" Katie started, and upon gathering her wits, she screamed, "WOOD!" Oliver dropped her on the floor.

"OW! What in Merlin's – "

"I'm sorry Kates, I'm sorry!" shouted Oliver, which elicited several "SHHHHH!" sounds and door slams from the dormitory side. They must have woken some people up.

"Look, I just wanted to bring you back to your room," the Keeper sheepishly explained.

"And just how would you have done that, Captain?" asked Katie sarcastically. She rubbed her sore bottom. "The girls' staircase turns into a slide when boys try to climb it, you know that."

"Broom," Oliver grinned. Katie glanced at the flying apparatus a little sourly.

"I'm hungry," she finally said.

"Me too," replied Oliver. "Come with me to the kitchens."

"Don't you want to change first?" Katie laughed. "I bet you smell like…" she trailed off, blushing.

"It's alright," chuckled Oliver. "We'll take half an hour maybe? Tops?"

Any rapport they shared seemed to vanish further as they walked to the kitchens. They did so in stuffy silence, with only disapproving or gossipy portraits making a comment every now and then. Oliver was obviously uncomfortable, as was Katie. They were incredibly tense, and walked with enough space between them to let a Basilisk slither through with ease. Finally they reached the portrait of the pear, and Katie sighed with relief as Oliver tickled it.

As the portrait swung open, a horde of happy house elves crowded around them, asking what they would like to eat. "Masters Fred and George Weasley were here earlier," piped up one elf named Socky. "Socky served them four slabs of steak apiece! What would the young sir and miss have?"

Katie, obviously shaken, awkwardly replied, "Oh? Uhh. I guess I'll have some chocolate ice cream, please," and Oliver requested the same. The two sat down by a counter.

"So," Katie finally said, breaking the silence.

"So."

"I bet you're wondering why I ran off like that," mumbled Katie.

"I'm wondering a lot of things," Oliver mused, "But let's start with that."

Katie sighed. "I don't know how." Silence. And then she blurted, "Why do you smell so good all the time?"

"What?" said a stunned Oliver. "What is with everybody and the way I smell?"

More awkward silence ensued. Katie was blushing so much that it was probably impossible to blush harder. Oliver had a frown on his face.

Katie began again, "Forget I asked, it was stu –"

"I shower before practice," Oliver quickly answered, so as not to discourage Katie. "Shampoo, soap, warm water, and a good scrub. It doesn't get simpler than that."

"Before practice?" Katie asked, her surprise momentarily overcoming her embarrassment.

"Yeah," shrugged Oliver. "I find that if I shower before breaking a sweat, I don't smell at all during or after. At least, not for a while."

Katie leaned in to smell him, but Oliver pulled away. "Really!" he cried in defense. "What is it? Do I offend?"

Katie pulled away as well, mortified that she had attempted to sniff him. "N – no! What makes you think that? I just…" She sighed heavily. "I just needed to know so I could clear my head. Forget it, you must be angry. And think I'm weirder than you already do."

Oliver's face softened. "Oh, Kates, I'm not. I find it a bit strange, maybe, but I'm not angry. But… what does the way I smell have anything to do with you three pelting me with Quaffles?"

"D'you want the smart answer, or the honest answer?" Katie averted her eyes.

"Whichever one explains it better," said Ollie softly, trying to catch her gaze.

The Chaser bit her lip. Squeezing her eyes shut, she gathered a deep breath and mumbled, "_A thughmen bey effeyjis mayjasweh idcuversma sefoilyk chules_."

"What!" laughed Oliver, but he promptly stopped when he saw Katie bow her head lower. "I'm sorry," he murmured, "I just couldn't catch any of it."

Katie finally looked up to face him. "It was a terrible joke gone awry," she said. "I… Alicia and Angelina were on to me, and I just… I wanted to make you smell bad so maybe I could convince myself that…" she faltered.

Oliver looked on, his heart racing and expectant.

"That I… didn't fancy you."

The Captain could not have heard anything better, not even that Gryffindor won the House Cup. He grabbed both of Katie's hands, and with enough enthusiasm to startle the passing house elves, he cried, "But why would you need to do that! I've been feeling exactly the same way for so long and I didn't think I'd ever get to tell you because – "

"Because you're older than me?" she replied dully. "Because you leave at the end of the year? Because winning Quidditch is more important?"

"Well," Oliver stammered, "Except for the last one, yes, but this changes things! This changes everything! I never thought I'd get to say it, but dear Merlin, Katie Bell, I fancy you. Crazy antics and all, I do."

Katie looked up at Oliver, disbelieving. "I can't believe this is happening, it's all too weird and I just don't think that – "

"Why so cold, Kates?" Oliver interrupted, his heart sinking quickly. "I thought this would have been a good thing. Unplanned, yes, but – "

"Exactly, Oliver, unplanned," Katie sighed. "I mean, it's great that we both may have felt this way for a while, but I don't think either of us really wanted to act on it. Look at us! Would anything have happened here? For the most part, I thought this was one-sided."

"Hey, hey now," Oliver said softly, gathering Katie by the shoulders. "It seems you've got a lot on your mind. It's alright, really, it is."

"I do," Katie gave a weak smile. "But you'll think I'm crazy."

"On top of everything else you've done today? Try me."

"I like you, Ollie. I like you a lot."

"I like you too! So, so much –"

"Let me finish, please. I know you, Oliver, and you're not one to really get into things without thinking them through thoroughly. Just look at the way you make us study plays," Katie laughed, "It's insane! And then suddenly this?"

"I can see how you might be –"

"This isn't a game, Oliver, and frankly if it were, we wouldn't have much of a chance of winning. You're graduating soon, and I'll be here another three years. Don't you find it weird? You're seventeen, I'm fourteen, going on fifteen in a month. But sometimes the gap is just too palpable."

Oliver was not expecting this. He'd been on the optimistic side, and had been hoping that maybe Katie would take the opposite route and just snogged him senseless. Alas, reality had a weird way of smacking him in the bollocks.

"Oh," he said, slightly downtrodden. Something - something he'd never said before - was wrestling its way out of his mouth, however: "I can't say I thought about that. But you're wrong, Kates. It never was a game to me. I've thought about you for longer than I let on. And Quidditch? I make plays just so that you stay safe from the other teams' Beaters. I mean, I let Johnson and Spinnet stay in the Beaters' perimeter because I know the Weasleys are looking out for them. But you? I've got to look out for you somehow." And then it dawned on him. "I thought at first I was just being fair and strategic, and then I realized later that this concern was caused by something much more than just my desire to win some stupid cup. Well, no it's not stupid, it's just… Uhh. It's still important. But I never thought about telling you how I felt because I didn't think I had a snowball's chance in hell. I was pretty much content with just laughing and training with you…" Oliver trailed off, ears red from embarrassment.

Again, silence permeated the room. The two noticed that the house elves, too, had gone silent during their conversation. Socky the house elf approached them, profusely apologizing. "Socky was not sure if she could interrupt," she said remorsefully, gesturing towards the bowls of ice cream in her shivering hands. "The ice cream has melted. Socky is truly sorry."

"It does not matter one bit, thank you, Socky," Oliver took the bowls from her, and looked around the kitchen. "Thank you, all of you." The house elves collectively gasped, and scurried back to work on the dishes.

Katie and Oliver laughed.

"It's not every day you have house elves stop working to eavesdrop on your conversation," giggled Katie.

"It'll be a story to tell our –" Oliver stopped himself, literally biting his tongue in awkwardness.

"Grandchildren?" Katie smiled, reaching out her hands to grab his, which were tightly clamped on his knees.

Oliver furrowed his brow, shrugging. "Who knows? Where do we see this going anyway? You don't even want to date me, it seems."

"I never said I didn't," amended Katie, "Just that I don't think now's the best time."

"And yet you're holding my hand."

"And yet I'm holding your hand."

They beamed at one another, looking at each other's faces for the first time that evening.

"And might I ask to kiss you?" Oliver grinned hopefully.

"Ollie!"

"It's just a souvenir. We can go about the rest of the year like it never happened, and then who knows, maybe in time, everything will sort itself out, if we don't sort it out first."

"Ever the optimist," Katie grinned back.

"And when you become a Quidditch superstar someday," Oliver said, playing with her fingertips, "Don't forget to give me a shot, too, yeah?" He leaned in a little closer.

"Only if you still smell as good," Katie hedged. She gripped his hands tight, and let her eyes flutter to a close.

"Is that a yes to a kiss now?" Oliver whispered, his face a mere inch away.

"Only if I can sniff you."

"I think you've been doing that longer than I've been conscious of it." Oliver then closed the gap between them, kissing Katie tenderly on the lips. Katie was only too happy to oblige him, and kissed him back with more vigor than he expected. The house elves (who had inexplicably abandoned their chores entirely) applauded, and the pair broke away, breathless and red in the face.

"So about that shot?" Oliver asked cheekily as they left the kitchen hand-in-hand.

"Oh, I'll give you lots when I'm a hotshot Chaser someday. Straight into your hoops, that is!" Katie cackled. "I can't believe my entire crush on you was founded just on a bit of soap."

"Well, I hope it's just as effective somewhere down the line," Oliver looked up, imagining the future.

"We'll see, Cap'n, we'll see." Katie leaned in to Oliver's chest for just one more sniff. "Although I think your smell should be the least of your concerns."

FIN!

**A/N: Well, what do you guys think? It's not exactly the happily ever after some of you might have been expecting, but don't worry because it was written with more to come in mind. I'm on semestral break, which means more time for writing! Look out for an epilogue perhaps tomorrow! Til then, IZOBEL x**


	8. EpiloguePreview: A Whiff of Competition

Hey everyone! Merry Christmas to you all! I hope everybody is safe and happy with their loved ones. As my gift, I offer you my Epilogue/Sneak Peek, an excerpt from the sequel to _Freshly Showered_, _A Whiff of Competition._

NOTE: This story is meant to take place after the Fall of Voldemort, and is my interpretation (with Katie included, of course) of the events of the Quidditch League of '98-'99, and the events into the new millennium. It's canon when possible, but I filled in the gaps with a lot of my own imagination. It's gonna be much different from I'm used to, anyway! Enjoy, and don't forget to review!

xxx

**A Whiff of Competition - Excerpt**

_"Good evening witches and wizards, hags and warlocks, ladies and gentlemen, girls and boys! Welcome to Ilkley Moor Stadium, right here in Yorkshire, England. I'm Noah Winsome!"_

_"And I'm Jimmy Dunifer! We'll be your commentators for the evening, and we're pleased to report that the stadium is packed as we await the beginning of the first match of the Quidditch League's new season! We've got an interesting toss-up tonight, with Puddlemere United playing their lovely longtime rivals, the Holyhead Harpies. If you folks recall, both Puddlemere and the Harpies narrowly missed entry into the semis last season, but it's certainly not out of lack of talent! Puddlemere boasts the likes of twenty-two year old Oliver Wood, who won Rookie of the Year and Most Valuable Keeper in the Annual Quidditch Awards just the other year. That was his first year off the bench, and boy has he been a mainstay! Most say it's out of talent; then of course there are the ladies. They love Oliver Wood, as well the other members of Puddlemere United. They swept up quite some awards from _Witch Weekly_, haven't they, Noah?"_

"_Yes, I believe so. The ladies have missed their Quidditch men!"_

"_Of course, thanks to the Dark Lord's shenanigans, we missed us an entire season, so we have yet to see what new things Wood and the rest of Puddlemere have come up with in the duration of the Great Quidditch Drought!"_

_"Yes Jimmy, thank Merlin it's over! Puddlemere's even got themselves a new Chaser from the reserves, Roger Davies! He's not half bad, and quite the favorite amongst the ladies too, second perhaps only to Oliver Wood himself._

"_But that's not to say that the Harpies won't be giving him and Oliver a run for his money, because they've got a few tricks up their sleeve! After having lost their star chaser, Joan Gafton, to the forces of the Dark Lord, many felt hope was lost for the Harpies, but they're bouncing back with fresh new talent in the likes of Katherine - or as she prefers to be called - Katie Bell! And wouldn't you know it, when they contacted her, she'd been working in the Muggle world! That's because this nineteen-year-old rookie has had her own share of curses: did you know, Jimmy, that she fell victim to a nasty cursed necklace in her final year at Hogwarts?"_

"_Merlin's pantaloons, Noah. That was her? It's no wonder she wanted to steer clear of magic for a while."_

"_Yes! The very one. Bell missed her last game at Hogwarts because of that. Fortunately she had already been scouted by not only the Harpies but also last season's champions, the Tutshill Tornadoes! She chose to play for the former, however, as a matter of sentiment."_

_"Indeed! That's quite an astonishing background for our pretty new Harpy."_

"Pretty Harpy – now that's not a bad paradox! Have you gents seen photographs? A model, this one –!"

"_Moving on, thank Merlin that's all over and done with, and that Miss Bell is in tip-top shape! You-Know-Who is dead, the Quidditch Drought is over, and we've got ourselves a lovely night for the sport! Look at this illuminated stadium. Freshly mowed grass, newly polished hoops… Stunning! What say you? I'm very excited see what Miss Bell has to offer. She's got some big shoes to fill!"_

The commentators gabbed on about their sunny predictions for both the game and Katie's career. Katie, on the other hand, was feeling no such cheer.

"I think I could use the fact that I was cursed as a good excuse for messing up entirely," Katie deadpanned.

"Hey, you'll do great," nudged one Beater, Giovanna Dermont. "Gwen and I have got you covered on both sides. Just play like you did at your tryout and they won't know what hit 'em!"

"You think?" shivered Katie. "Can I really live up to _the_ Joan Gafton?"

"Get your head in the game, Bell," commanded Bruna Geyser, the Harpies' Keeper. "I'm going to sound bitter here, but you're a much better team player than Joanie was. She was a right cow. And she played real dirty too. Come on, you should be excited to cream Puddlemere! I know I am!"

"Thank Merlin for Wilda and Annelise," Katie mumbled, "Otherwise I'd surely make a fool out of myself. There's kind of someone I wanna impress tonight..."

"Who's making you nervous! It better not be a man!" the captain, Gwenog called from her bench.

"Speaking of men," she pleaded Bruna, "Would you stop acting like a bipolar cow in front of Sean Flanner? I'll admit he's a fit guy, and it's a miracle he still fancies you after all the bizarre things you pull. But mark my words, I'll punt a Bludger right at ya if I catch you winking or snarling at him more than twice this time."

"I'll admit he's... fairly attractive," Bruna dodged Katie's inquisitive glances. "But the game comes first. Us girls gotta stick together. I don't have time for these silly games, and from what I hear he's quite the player anyway. Besides, he gets far fewer goals past me than he does past any other Keeper," she huffed.

"And yet you can't seem to get enough of Flanner each time we play Puddlemere. You should see the way you just _dare_ him to come at you. It's like you relish the opportunity to turn him down when he asks you out afterwards! Don't deny it, you're expecting him to do it again!" Gwenog retorted.

Katie was glad the attention had shifted away from her. She left her teammates to chat amongst themselves and glanced anxiously towards the pitch.

Meanwhile in the Puddlemere Locker Room, Oliver was positively itching for the game to begin. Fiddling with the straps of his Keeping gloves, he bobbed about in place.

"What's got your panties in a bunch, Wood?" laughed veteran Chaser Sean Flanner. "You're usually so stoic before a game."

"Mate, I'm excited, not agitated," paced Wood, smiling. "I have a good feeling about this game."

"Oh yeah? I think we've got a good chance myself. Fancy that Bruna will finally go out with thirty-two year old me? Last time she said she wanted someone more mature," grinned the Chaser.

"Not in a million years. How long have you been barking up that dead tree?"

"Too long. I'm just lucky she hasn't hexed me yet. She probably thinks I have stalker tendencies given the time I've fancied her," chuckled Sean. "I don't have the heart to shoot mine Quaffle through her golden hoops."

"But isn't that just what you want to do?" A heavy hand clapped on Oliver's shoulder. Roger Davies had stepped into their conversation. "Figuratively speaking, of course. Wood, you hear Bell's on the Harpies now? She'll be giving us a run for our money just like she used to. You more than me, of course. And you'll be like ol' Flanner here."

"Show some respect, rookie. I can still keep up with young Chasers such as yourself. But apparently not with the times... Who is this Bell? Is he any good?"

"Katie Bell," Oliver murmured. "_She's_ terrific. She was my –"

"Girlfriend at Hogwarts," Roger interrupted. "Or he wishes," he cackled.

"Oh?"

"_Chaser_," said Oliver hotly. "She was my Chaser. Damn good, too. Some days, she could put goal after goal past me."

"Believe me, mate," Roger turned to Sean, "No one would dare go near Katie Bell. I remember she was talented as she was hot. She was probably the only thing that could throw Oliver off his game. Wood here would glare at anyone who expressed remotely any interest in her. Look, just like that!" he laughed at Oliver, who was indeed staring daggers at him. "And after Wood graduated, Katie wouldn't even give us other fellas a shot with her."

"Do tell," begged Sean, listening closer. And then, "Is this going to be an issue?"

"She got cursed, remember," grumbled Oliver. "Focus, the game's in five. And no, I can save just fine."

"And I've got my eye on Wilda Griffiths," laughed Davies.

"What! She's like five years older than you," frowned Oliver.

"So? I like my women older. They've got this power, y'know? And the addition of Bell just makes this little fixation of ours more interesting."

"How so?" the Keeper raised an eyebrow.

"Well, we boys in blue always enjoy an eyeful of the Harpies, with the exception of Gwenog, of course."

"She scares me," shivered Sean.

Roger continued, "And now that Bell's on the team, even stony Oliver Wood here has to take some interest, yes?"

"Shut it Davies. Unlike you lot, I can focus." Oliver rolled his eyes.

"If that's so, I'd like to make a bet," smirked Davies. "If Bell gets more than five goals past you, you wear a kilt to the opening party tomorrow."

"And if I make more than five saves against Bell, you wear my kilt," Oliver coolly replied.

"I'm not even Scottish!"

"So?"

"Aren't you two overestimating this girl? Five goals, let alone five attempts, is pretty steep for a first-timer," asked Sean apprehensively.

"Oh you'll see," smiled Oliver, a bit of pride in his expression. After all, he'd trained Katie from the start.

"Are we on or not?" goaded Roger. "Shake on it."

"Wait! I want in on this bet," ceded Sean. "If Bruna agrees to go with me to the Opening Ball, _I_ will wear a kilt as well. And I'm just as English as you are, Davies." He placed his hands over the two younger men's heads. "Are we on?"

Oliver and Roger stared each other down playfully. "Deal."

"Wood, did you shower?" asked Flanner, wiping his hand down his robes. "Your head's all wet. Don't tell me that's nervous sweat already?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah," smiled Wood to himself. "I just took a shower."

"Before the game? That, son, is sketchy behavior," jested Roger in a manner not unlike the Weasley Twins'.

"Force of habit, sorry mate."

xxx

A/N: Well, what do you think? Is this a plot worth pursuing or not? Please do leave me a review as your present! Merry Christmas everyone, and have a wonderful New Year!


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